Gray is about to start in on the person on the other end of the line, already forgetting about the minor physical encounter from moments before. There are far more pressing matters. He is midsentence, cruelty on the tip of forked tongue when there is a weight at his collar followed by a pull. It catches him off guard, and Gray stumbles in his step, falling back as he works to regain himself.

Next comes the pain. For just a second, his vision is lined with stars. His phone is clenched in tight fist, silent, and it takes seconds for the stunned man to regain himself. "What the F-CK?" He's jerked himself free, turning to face his assailant as he massages his now tender skull.

Irritable, the suited man walks down the street carelessly with his phone pressed to his ear. He is listening. Whatever it is he is hearing, he does not like. It is plain as day, etched into storm colored eyes and told through a set jaw. And, as he turns a corner, his shoulder collides with that of another.

A look, tired and hard, would be passed without apology before he returns to his disappointing conversation, muted demands for the person on the other end to do something trailing in his wake.

Gideon, as a rule, wonít involve Eiji in his more questionable practices. They have a hefty history of sharing the same enemies, thus they are constantly pitted on the same team. Because of that, the psychopath has formed an unquestionable trust in the man that even he canít explain; all he knows is that he would lay down his life for Eiji without a second thought.

So when he sends the text, itís with an unspoken understanding that he wonít expect a response. Gideon wonít ask the man to go against his own morals, should he question what his intentions are. Though theyíve never addressed Gideonís alignment in great detail, Eiji isnít a fool. And neither is he. Their friendship hangs on a thread that greatly resembles ignorance is bliss, if only for mere convenience. In Gideonís mind, he isnít ready to face that truth with Eiji, and he hopes - futilely, he knows - that heíll never have to.

When he checks his phone, it will have a single message:Do you remember which cabin was Tiberís when we were in the Den?

Camille is a monster. A terror. The woman takes pride in her shenanigans, often inciting them when lulls of activity inside the institute brought bounds of silence and calm. There weren't necessarily a lot of members who stuck around all the time - a feat that Solitude boasted over and above many of the other sanctuaries in the Realm. It was a place to go when you needed it. An intermittent family in the event that you found yourself alone...

When Camille is alone, questionable things happen.

She's not sure where Eiji is, but the room that he frequented was empty. That's good news for her. She could slip in and set her trap without being discovered (or so she's sure). What was she planning?

Paper. Paper everywhere.

Instead of a bucket of at the top of the door, she'd set up a a cardboard flank that would balance a ream of off white printer paper. If the door were touched just a hair too quickly, the paper would scatter across the room like snowflakes. Elsewhere, he'd find intricately folded origami animals in the nooks and crevices of the room. One might be surprised in the number of these things Cami had managed to fold up over the course of a few months. Some days she was so bored that she'd crafted boxes of them.